


Fresh Roses

by vvverbatim



Category: Fullmetal Alchemist (Anime 2003), Fullmetal Alchemist - All Media Types, Fullmetal Alchemist: Brotherhood & Manga
Genre: Bittersweet Ending, Depressing, Drabble, Flowers, M/M, Post-Canon, Time Skips, musings, no beta we die like men
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-02-15
Updated: 2021-02-15
Packaged: 2021-03-17 01:07:07
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,595
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29463237
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/vvverbatim/pseuds/vvverbatim
Summary: Edward loves flowers and his life blossomed beautifully over the years, but he was on borrowed time and maybe it was inevitable; a life that blazed as brightly as his own was bound to burn out faster than anyone else's.
Relationships: Edward Elric/Roy Mustang
Comments: 6
Kudos: 32





	Fresh Roses

**Author's Note:**

> Apparently every 15k I write for my long fic, I have to write a shorter one shot to keep myself sane. This was supposed to be like,,, 2k max,,, I'm so sorry about this, but I kept thinking about what would happen in the future since Ed used his own soul like a Philosopher's Stone.

Edward loved flowers.

Peonies, daisies, lilies, the weird cotton ball looking ones that were really tiny and looked like fresh snow on stems. But above all, he loved roses. The bright red ones that called out to him with the same color as his jacket. The same color he had grown up loving and wearing for years until he had finally taken it off and replaced it for a more subdued and homey brown. Still, whenever he could, he chose to pick up a few stems of crimson flowers for himself and place them in his flat that was sparsely decorated and filled with alchemy texts.

Al thought it was sweet and Winry thought it was romantic, but Ed just thought they were nice to look at. They stood out and their petals were always soft to the touch. Maybe that’s why he always wanted to buy them, since he noticed that his purchases of the delicate plant had expanded tenfold once he had his arm back. They were nice to touch.

He didn’t think much of it, but Roy, ever the socially aware Colonel, tucked that detail away into a separate file in his mind since it was bound to come in handy one day.

Edward loved flowers.

\----

Edward hated hospitals.

It wasn’t his fault the building collapsed, really. It was the criminal he was chasing that decided it would have been a good idea to tear down the supports as Ed was running through a hallway on the fourth floor. The tile beneath him gave way and suddenly and without warning, he was buried under wooden beams and other detritus.

His arm stung like a bitch, but thankfully, it was only sprained. Nothing was broken and the severe bruising he had endured was nothing like what he had experienced time and time before. Ed thought he could be out and about in the next few days if he managed to not snap at the doctor or the nurses.

On second thought, he made peace with the fact that he would probably have to stay past the weekend.

The painkillers they had given him made him drowsy and before he could turn to look out the window and see Central Command gleaming in the setting sun, he fell into a deep slumber.

He dreamed of a field of orange flowers that swayed with a cool breeze. There was a figure in the flowers telling him sweet nothings and wishing for health and happiness and he knew the voice, but every attempt to get closer, the voice seemed to fade away and the figure turned into nothing but a faint shadow.

Ed opened his eyes a few minutes or hours or however the fuck later, bleary but cognizant, and saw a small vase that a nurse had apparently left on his night stand. The bright glow of the fluorescent light above him made the red stand out and the card beside the flower was in a delicate cursive hand.

_I feel inclined to ask that you avoid trouble while you recuperate, but it seems an impossible feat sometimes. Please do try to keep safe and well, Edward._

Edward hated hospitals but he loved flowers.

\----

Roy cared little for roses.

Carmilla thought they were too cliché for her. Marie hated the aroma. Genevieve was allergic and he had found out when she saw the bouquet and ran. He never had good luck when it came to that blasted flower and sometimes, when he walked by the flower shop or saw a loving couple with a seasonal red and orange bundle of the accursed plant, he would walk past with his head held high and nose upturned.

Maybe if he had positive memories with roses, perhaps one day he could have come to withstand their presence. Why Ed found them so beautiful was still a mystery to him, even after all these years. Perhaps Edward was vain and enjoyed the superficiality of the petals or the ephemerality of its beauty or perhaps Edward just like roses for no specific reason.

Why roses? One day he would find a way to ask that didn’t make him seem like an absolute creep.

Edward loved roses and if he was laying in a hospital, high on drugs because he never understood how horribly injured he was until he fell over in agony, Roy could at least give him something to look at to help pass the time.

“One rose, please.” Roy fished in his pocket for loose change and pulled out 500 cens.

The florist handed him a flower stripped of its thorns and decorated with a small white bow in the middle of the stem.

“I hope all goes well with them.” The florist was a kind looking girl with blonde hair that was a touch too light and her eyes were a shade of hazelnut that befitted her demeanor. Her smile touched her eyes as she took the coin and waved Roy away.

Roy cared little for roses, but he cared a lot for Edward.

More than he could care to admit.

\----

Edward was at a loss for words.

It was never difficult to shut the twenty-four-year-old up with a well-placed retort or out of place comment, but at this moment, he had nothing to say because his head was filled to the brim with fuzzy dandelions. They were flying and floating about in his head and making it incredibly difficult to understand what was happening.

“Al, you can’t be serious. There’s no way that I-“

“Look at yourself, brother. You can’t look at him for more than a few seconds before blushing or turning away. I don’t even remember the last time you looked him the eye without smiling like an idiot.” It was Al’s nonchalant way of speaking as he diligently ate his dinner that made Ed fumble with his words even more.

Okay, so what if he was distracted? Who wouldn’t be? There was a reason everyone claimed that Mustang had every bachelorette’s contact in his journal. There had to be some logic behind that rumor, right? Or at least, some semblance of fact.

In Ed’s case, he fully understood. Charismatic, but kind. Serious, but naïve. Commanding, but horrible at putting on a necktie. He would have to be senile to not have some sort of attraction to his ex-C.O. since anyone with two eyes could definitively say he was a nice sight to look at and even better one to get to know.

But still, Ed didn’t think he was _that_ obvious… was he? The thought that he might have been drooling over that bastard, in front of him, made a shiver run down his back. God, he really prayed that Mustang hadn’t noticed.

“You know,” Al stabbed at a diced carrot and ate it, using the fork to animatedly express his frustration at his completely hopeless brother, “he looks at you the same way when you’re not looking.”

Ed wanted to scream into a pillow or run to the far reaches of the Great Desert and live in the sand dunes for the rest of his life. He could feel his cheeks warm as he thought of Roy’s smile and the way his eyes crinkled when Ed said something funny or the way he pouted when Hawkeye gave him more paperwork or when-

Damn, he was in deep. Ed looked askance at Al, who simply looked back at his older brother and grinned all-knowingly.

Ed hated it when he was at a loss for words.

\----

Ed wondered if it was possible to die from sheer anxiety.

His heart was beating out of his ears and the burning in his chest was making it difficult to breathe. He risked a glance to the right and saw how Mustang, the smug bastard he is, drove calmly through the cobbled Central streets without looking anywhere near as tense as Ed was. That man was unfazed and Ed wondered if Mustang was running the periodic table through his head in the same way he was currently.

Hydrogen, helium, lithium, beryllium, carbon, nitrogen, oxygen, bromine, aluminum, silicon, phosphorus-

“I hope you like Cretan food. They have the best selection I’ve found in all of Central.” Ed’s train of thought quickly stopped and departed again without him in tow.

“I do,” Ed managed to say, “and I didn’t know that there was good Cretan food around here.”

Roy slid his hands down the steering wheel with his ignition gloves, the flint-embedded fingertips making a slight grating noise as he lowered his hands.

“That’s good. I’m sure you’ll like it.”

“What if I don’t?”

Roy chuckled in his low timber that made Ed want to sit up straighter.

“I promise you will.”

“But what if I don’t?” Ed wasn’t purposely being difficult. It was the nerves that decided to show itself on this half-date, half-colleague dinner in such a crass way.

Roy let the corners of his mouth tick up in amusement.

“Then I’ll make sure to make it up to you somehow.” They turned into a drive way and parked.

The restaurant was fancier than Ed had expected, but the prices of the dishes were not as high as the décor was suggesting. Perhaps the portions were just child-sized and it was a way to fish for money.

They had ordered their main courses and set about to breaking the proverbial ice with talk of politics and alchemy, the two subjects that a now-General of the Amestrian military and the People’s Alchemist could easily discuss for hours on end. It was stilted and Ed thought it was stupid how now, of all times, he thought it was difficult to say something to the man he had known for the past fourteen years.

The lights were dimmed and they ate portions that were surprisingly normal, which brought out a gentle chuckle from Roy, never ceasing their conversation, but Ed was staring at the man before him now, truly and genuinely looking at how he used his utensils or spoke with fervor about trades and taxes and training. His eyes were plenty dark and Ed thought they could be a solid black, perhaps like charcoal or volcanic rock. They were endless voids that Ed was getting lost in.

Roy shifted his gaze to the flower on the table as he laughed at something Ed said. His eyes reflected everything that gave off light and Ed could see how the warm glow surrounding them looked like small flames flickering in the abyss. Ed wasn’t really a romantic person, but in the moment as Roy stared at a solitary red rose sitting in the glass, Ed thought there was no single sight as warm or as breathtaking as the one sitting opposite him.

Ed let his leg rest close to Mustang’s under the dining table and the older man didn’t move it away when he felt the warm limb brush close to his own. They were content the way they were and it was as if the rest of the world was on pause outside the door of the restaurant.

Ed hoped that they would do this again sometime soon, and when he felt Roy’s leg slip between his own and sandwich one another under the table, the contact making Ed’s heart beat a little too hard and a lot too fast, Ed didn’t want the night to end.

Maybe he couldn’t die from sheer anxiety, but Ed would like to get in another date before it happened, thank you very much.

\----

Roy was not a morning person.

Not in the slightest, but he had slowly adjusted to being one when he had entered the military. Now, it was as if his internal clock made his eyes open at seven in the morning every day, no matter how much he wanted to stay in bed and go back to sleep.

But sometimes, something peculiar would happen. He would be glad for his innate ability to wake up before his partners. The morning after would be spent quickly showering, getting his clothes, and doing a walk (or a drive) of shame back to his flat and drinking some coffee before going into work.

This morning, however, could not be any more different. Roy’s back was to the window and he stared forward at the long golden hair that glittered and gleamed in the morning light. He enjoyed the memory that sprang forth of how it felt to tangle his fingers in the silky strands the night before. The locks had slipped through his fingers and he had been thankful for how long the hair was, or else he assumed it would have been difficult to keep a good grip on it.

Roy smiled and hummed noncommittally as he looked at Edward’s back, admiring how he still had fading red lines running down his shoulder blades, and they had all been Roy’s doing. There was a part of him that heated at the thought that Edward was his and he had marked him in such a way; he never wanted to see another scratch or bruise on the younger man’s body unless he was the one who put it there from their love-making.

So, what if Roy had a possessive streak? It wasn’t as if it was one-sided. Roy let his hand wander up to his collarbone and could immediately feel the soreness from all the bite marks and bruises that had been scattered on his torso.

Roy got out of bed and walked to the bathroom, being careful not to wake Edward in the process, and looked at himself in the mirror.

It was as if someone had grabbed purple and red watercolor and splashed them sporadically all over his body. Like rose petals, the bruises bloomed and colored his body in shades that he had never been so proud to have. He smiled like a hopeless idiot. He loved red roses and now, there was nothing that could compare to the tender and bright petals he had been gifted by his love.

Roy felt arms wrap around him from the back and Ed grumble something about coffee and work. If this was the morning that he could wake up to every day, he would be more than content with the life he had been given. He had been given a fresh bouquet of roses that could not smell sweeter nor look so beautiful and maybe, this could last forever.

\----

But how can it? They aren’t the ones who could ever be blessed to live a normal life.

Equivalent exchange can go fuck itself and if Truth wants to show up to take back the arm Ed had been given by Al years ago, he could honestly care less.

“Edward, what were you thinking! Why didn’t you tell us?” Dr. Marcoh was horrified. His hair had turned mostly white over the past few years but the scars on his face had never faded.

“I had no other choice! What the fuck was I supposed to do? Let myself bleed to death in that mining town?” Ed defended himself. He knew that it was a spur of the moment decision and even though there had been a Philosopher’s stone nearby after he fought with Kimbley, there was no way he would have used it. He had to live and the only choice he had was to use his own soul.

Roy didn’t move an inch. It didn’t even look like he was breathing; he just stared out the window of the hospital with a blank, calculating stare. This was just supposed to be a physical, nothing more, and when Führer Mustang had been notified that something urgent had come up at Edward’s check-up, all documents could wait.

And now, Edward was dying. Slowly, incrementally, but dying faster than everyone else. The word tasted vile on his tongue.

“Your soul won’t last as long as your body, Edward. You have to understand this.”

“Yeah, well, I guess I can’t go back and fix that, can I? I’m stuck between a rock and a hard place, doc, and I’d rather I just live my life the way I have until I kick the can.”

Edward stood up angrily and grabbed his coat, draping it over his arm. He walked over to the man he loved, who simply stared outwards at the plaza in front of the hospital. It was lunch time and the sun was too bright.

The rose bushes needed tending, Roy noted, and he hoped that they would be in bloom soon. He loved the smell and the red petals dearly.

“Come on, let’s go home. I want to rest today, love.” Ed tugged on Roy’s blue uniform. Wordlessly, Roy followed Edward out, sparing a glance at Dr. Marcoh, who looked incredibly distressed and was dragging a hand across his face.

Roy already knew. There was nothing that equaled the price of a soul, even a small part of one as bright and as beautiful and as blinding as Edward’s.

They held hands as they got into a chauffeured vehicle and sat quietly in the back seat. The hum of the vehicle muted the world outside as they headed toward the Führer’s residence.

“Like hell I regret what I did. And of course, I wouldn’t say anything! I don’t need the pity or the sympathy or the-”

Ed looked at Roy as he spoke, but his voice stopped working. He could only feel a strange pressure at the base of his neck as he watched Roy look out the window with a glossy look in his eyes.

“I know you don’t.” Roy spoke quietly, almost indiscernibly. “And yet…” Roy turned to look at Edward who suddenly looked like the kid he had met all those years ago. It hurt him to no end to think that such a bright existence be snuffed out so soon. How he would come to bear the cold and dark nights by himself was already too much.

Roy tightened his grip on Edward’s hand brought it up to his mouth, planting a gentle kiss on his knuckles. Ed saw how a single tear slipped out of Roy’s eye and fell between his fingers. His heart was cracking, breaking, fracturing in front of his eyes.

“I love you.”

Ed leaned over and embraced Roy with the tightest hold he could manage, not bothering to wipe the tears that streamed down his own cheeks.

\----

Every morning was a blessing and every night was a curse.

Ed would wake up and kiss Roy good morning, and that would make Roy’s day. He needed nothing else to sustain him when Edward would open his eyes and smile wide before the day started.

But at night, Roy would spend the hours before going to bed in his study, trying desperately to figure out if there was some way to restore a part of a soul. There had to be an array somewhere, a transmutation in a book, or an ancient text that mentioned something, anything about Edward’s condition.

Edward would ultimately pry him away from his work and say that it was a waste of time and that Roy’s time should be spent with his love and not his obsession. Sometimes Ed would make the offhanded joke that Roy reminded himself of how he used to be before he attempted human transmutation. Roy never quite found it as funny or humorous as Edward, but nevertheless he would follow him into their shared bedroom and sleep.

Roy was afraid of sleeping though. One day, whether it be tomorrow or a week from now, or decades from now, Edward would go to sleep and never wake up again. His body and mind would be here, but his soul, the thing that made him, _him_ , would be absent from the world.

“I love you.” Edward whispered as he massaged the crease between Roy’s eyebrows away with his thumb.

“I love you too.” Roy always smiled and made an effort to show Edward the happiness that was now slowly disappearing in his life. He never knew when it would be his last time saying it, so he never held back.

They fought over this, of course. Roy was already mourning the loss of someone who was living and breathing right in front of him and in their home.

“Do you want me to die faster? Stop being so fucking morose around me, you absolute bastard.” Edward was drunk and he had shattered the crystal glass he had been drinking whiskey out of. He could see his hand bleeding red, but it didn’t stop him from pointing an accusatory finger at Roy, who was completely sober and horrified by the sight. “Go ahead! Just get rid of me now if that’s what you want! You’re so damn fixated on the idea that I’m gonna die that you can’t see what the fuck is happening right here, right now!”

Ed ran his uninjured hand through his loose hair and sighed angrily. “I can’t believe you. Everyone knows humans can’t live forever. We’re the ones who know that the best, and yet you think you can help me cheat my fate. Well, guess what, Roy? I’ve made my bed and it’s a damn fine one with a down comforter and black sheets and a sorry piece of Führer ass that I can’t stand but to love,” Ed walked over to Roy and grabbed at his shirt with his bloody hand, barely wincing at how the cotton button up made his cut sting like a motherfucker, “and I am going to proudly lie in it when my time comes. I don’t regret shit! And if you’re going to be this way, weeping over someone who’s still doing just great, then I’ll make sure it happens sooner! Got it?”

Roy pressed his lips into a thin line and gently pulled Edward’s injured hand away from his now-ruined shirt.

“I... I’m so sorry, Edward.” Roy flipped Ed’s hand over and examined the cut on his hand. It wasn’t deep, but it was long. Ed would need stitches. “I never… I never meant to hurt you like this. I’m just…” Roy looked up at Ed who was still glaring, but the anger had faded into contempt, “used to preparing for the worst before it actually happens. It’s not an excuse for how I’ve been treating you; I’m so incredibly sorry, my love.”

Ed scoffed, but didn’t pull his hand away.

“Yeah, well you better make up the past several months of your pathetic crying to me soon.” Ed smirked, a playful jest itching at his tone.

Roy wiped a tear that was threatening to run down his face and smiled.

“Anything for you, my Edward.”

\----

Every month, Roy brought Ed flowers.

Roses, bright red roses. The first Monday of every month, Roy surprised Ed (though after the first few months, it stopped being a surprise) with a beautiful bouquet and breakfast in bed. Führer duties always became a secondary priority when this day came around.

Roy kissed Ed’s temple as he woke up on an ordinary Monday morning. It was flower day and he was happy. First, he would have to wash up and head down to the flower shop as soon as possible if he wanted to have everything ready by the time Edward woke up. And then, if he was lucky, the meat-filled pastry that Ed preferred would be available at the local bakery.

He made his way to the flower shop, which was already open and the sweet blonde, brown-eyed florist had his bouquet ready. Today, it was arranged with a scattering of baby’s breath and Roy couldn’t help but smile sheepishly when the lady, Delilah, had winked at him and wished him the same luck she had done for the past several years.

The pastry was an easy snag as well, grabbing one for Edward and one for himself, before going back home and heading upstairs to wake his love.

When he opened the door, it was just as Roy had left him, sleeping soundly underneath the comforter and breathing peacefully. Sometimes, just watching him like this, Roy never wanted to break the magic of the morning hour. But there was a pastry to eat and flowers to admire.

“Edward, love, time to wake up. Your roses are here.” Roy gently nudged Edward, but there was no response. He just kept sleeping. He tried again. “Sweetheart, wake up.” Roy kissed Edward’s nose, which always garnered a loving annoyed response, but there was nothing. Not even a twitch.

The flowers were left to wilt on the nightstand that morning as Roy sat there, grabbing Ed’s warm hand in his own calloused fingers and praying, begging, pleading him to wake up.

Edward never did wake from his slumber.

\----

A body in that condition, without a soul, can apparently exist for a couple weeks until the life functions stop and the heart suddenly stops beating. Roy was painfully aware of how long he had sat beside Edward’s body, hoping that maybe, on an off day when the sun was setting, that he would open his eyes and stretch and ask why he was in the damn hospital again.

But no matter how many sleepless nights he sat by Edward, his condition never got better.

The funeral was held in Resembool and everyone came. Alphonse had cut his studies in Xing short and he had come racing to Central the moment he had heard his brother was no longer here. He was the only one, aside from Marcoh and Roy, who knew what had happened. Everyone else had been fed the same lie that Edward had been involved in a deadly hit-and-run that left him in a coma and that one day, he had succumbed.

Roy stood off to the side, watching as his love was lowered into the ground beside his mother and father’s graves; he knew Trisha and Hohenheim were watching this from wherever they were and that maybe, Edward was somewhere close to Roy and standing beside him. Roy’s fingers twitched, longing to hold Edward’s hand one last time.

This must be what it felt like to have phantom limb pains. Roy had seen Edward deal with his leg port on rainy days or after he woke up from horrendous night terrors, clutching his auto-mail with a grimace on his face and hissing curses into the sky. Roy was in agony and the ache flooded his whole body. An entire part of him had been taken away and all he had to remember Edward by was the empty side of the bed, the scattered alchemy notes in the study that he would never finish his work on, and the aches that would never cease.

Roy let himself sob silently as Alphonse spoke of his brother with a glimmer of happiness in his eyes that Roy couldn’t bring himself to look at.

The funeral ended with a final few eulogies from Izumi and Winry before people began to walk away and head back to the main house. Roy, however, stood resolutely at Edward’s grave and sank to his knees when everyone had left.

He pulled out a single red rose from inside his coat and laid it gently on top of the loose soil.

Roy loved roses. Roy loved Edward. And in some symbolic way that Edward would laugh at Roy for saying, they were the same thing. For years, they had flowers and they were happy. And that was enough for Roy.

**Author's Note:**

> Again, I'm so sorry, but hey! They lived beautiful lives and Roy never forgot how much he loved Ed! I also fully got choked up writing this so again, I'm sorry QnQ. Please leave a kudos if you enjoyed!!


End file.
